Solvit In Sanguis: Revelations
by VanHelsingFreak
Summary: Acondo begins her new life in the Count's employ and tries to adjust to living in the castle. She sets out on a quest to find out how her blood was powerful enough to bring him back and comes across a hidden chamber that reveals a secret about the Flemming family. DISCLAIMER: I do not admit to being a good writer. Read at your own risk.
1. Chapter 1

Acondo Flemming awoke before the sun had set. She got up and looked out her window to the sun still hanging in the grey sky. There was an hour – maybe two – before twilight. She stepped over Zeret who was taking up most of the floor of her tiny temporary bedroom. She took her silk robe off of its hanger and pulled it on. She shivered. Though it was summer in Transylvania it was freezing in the realm where the castle resided, which was eternally suspended in ill weather. She started coffee in an old metal pot on a gas powered camping stove. She ate a couple of cereal bars as the milk warmed. She didn't have much food in the castle since she was the only person who ate. Even if she did she had no fireplace to cook in. The room the Count stuffed her into was so small there wasn't enough room to place an iron furnace. Zeret was watching her waiting for his turn. She opened the window and took his bag of meat from the sill and let him at it. She went to her trunk holding her clothes. It was the same World War II trunk James had shot bullet-holes into when he learned the Count had struck her last summer. It still saddened her to think about him. He was gone and she had no one to talk to. He went on to do better things. She pushed him out of her mind and chose her clothes. For a moment she realised her time of eccentric and elaborate Goth outfits was over. She put on a simple strapped corset with some old jeans and a black frock coat. She slipped on her ankle length steel toed boots and decided on minimal makeup and drew on her eyebrows. She put up her hair into a messy up-do. She stared at herself in a broken mirror for a long time. She couldn't believe her reflection was her own. She sighed and left her room.

Acondo walked down the filthy main hall. She was still taken by the size of the castle. It defied all scientific logic and didn't seem to be bound by gravity. Even the thought of how it was possibly constructed overwhelmed her. She hadn't ventured into other parts of it, mostly out of fear she could get lost. Plus, the Count had requested her not to without his company. She had decided not to question him as often as she had over the last year. She no longer had the advantage over him. Acondo was no longer in the world of modernity that had confused him so much, and which she had known all her life. Now, she was in the dominion of the damned and she was in the employ of the Lord of all the nightmarish creatures that dwelled in the shadows. Her very life was hanging on a thin and delicate thread. She was the only living thing in the castle and she could feel it every moment she was awake. She had no one to talk to here, no one who would listen if she voiced any of the worries she had – no one who wasn't a slave to Dracula, at least. She wrote to Sven and hoped he would visit her once she gained permission. Permission – as though she had no will of her own. Everything she did needed to be cleared by the Count. It frustrated her. She wasn't a child! She didn't need anyone to tell her when she could come and go! Her will was the last thing she had and she would be damned if she would give that to him. She would never give herself to a monster like him. She would rather die. But for now she would fight silently and safely. Save her power for when she really needed it. There was no threat at the moment and she didn't know what the future would hold.

She walked up to the large door leading to the room where Dracula's coffin lay. She went in as quietly as she could so she wouldn't disturb the brides who were in their deathly trance hanging upside down from the rafters above. They looked so peaceful, for once - like they were sleeping. The attempt was short lived. She walked softly across the floor only to slip on a patch of black ice. She fell hard with a loud thud and a surprised shout. Before she could catch herself she fell face first onto the stone floor and broke open her lip. She laid there for a second then lifted herself up with a groan. She got to her feet and heard the cracking of ice. Then the frozen casing around the Count's coffin melted and broke apart. Dracula emerged from it in usual melodramatic fashion. It made Acondo roll her eyes. She had never known such as dramatic man - even when she worked at the theatre where such behaviour was crucial. He was fully aware, but ignored her for a few minutes as he forced the stiffness from his bones. His joints made agonising snapping and cracking sounds. Acondo shuddered at them. She hated it when normal people did it to begin with, but with him it was a terrible sound multiplied by a thousand. When he finished he turned his attention to her. His eyes went to the forming droplet of blood coming from her lip and they gleamed as he stepped towards her.

"You need to be more careful, don't you?" Dracula said, proceeding to wipe the droplet from her lip on to his thumb. He fought the urge to just grab her and lick it off. He stuck his thumb into his mouth. The taste burned his tongue and gave him a feeling of warmth. If he were capable of happiness he could describe the feeling as joyous, but those emotions had fled centuries ago. Now, it was merely a vague and distant memory.

"Uh…" Acondo said, staring at him with disgust, "Good evening…?"

He gave her an emotionless smile that made her stomach turn. He began to pace around before asking her what needed to be attended to. It was a test; one Acondo had been ready for, "First, we need to go around the castle to make a list of repairs that are needed. The servants…The Dwergi…Things…Will be delivered at midnight," she said, "And you promised a place for my permanent quarters."

The Count stopped pacing and looked at her with a raised brow. It seemed as though he had no recollection of saying such a thing. Acondo learned to always be cynical of his promises. He always had some sort of deception in his tone. She had heard it so often over the last year and even more since he had returned to his castle. She had only lived here for a few days and was already sickened by the calculated sweetness in his voice when he promised anything to her or his women. He mulled it over and then suddenly the thought dawned on him. "Yes," Dracula said, "I did say that didn't I?"

:...:

They looked over the less important parts of the castle first. The place had so many passages, rooms, and halls. Most of the doors were locked; even if someone still had the keys it would have been impossible to get it to turn in the rusted keyholes. Acondo wondered what was beyond the doors, though whatever it was probably had a reason to be hidden away. She knew that Dracula couldn't be the only horror strutting about.

"With all due respect," Acondo said, "I don't think all this dirt and dust just started accumulating after you were disposed of."

"It probably wasn't. I can't say I went around regularly to places I didn't need. Especially not to make sure they would meet the expectations of a mortal woman obsessed with cleanliness," Dracula replied, "Who knows what is buried under the spiders and their filthy webs. Besides, I don't want all of it removed. They give the place an ambiance I find rather…What's the word? Ah…Delightful. It adds to the timelessness."

At the stairway there was a door. It had a velvety surface and it looked different from all the others. Acondo ran her fingers against it and it creaked. It was open, slightly. She brought it to the attention of the Count who shut it with a loud clang and snap of the lock. He didn't say what the door led to even when she asked. They returned to the heart of the castle in silence. The Devil's tower was where the lab was placed a century ago. Once it was most likely a brilliant feat, but now the room was filled with cobwebs and scorch marks from fire and lightning. The equipment was completely broken down and out of date. Underneath them was oil frozen into puddles. Dracula examined the electrical wires. They were shorted out and hanging like vines everywhere. All of them were badly damaged by the elements. They were burned to disrepair. It would be costly to replace them. The lab was – for all intents and purposes – a mess.

"This room is very important," Dracula announced, "I want it to be one of your biggest priorities, but I also want it to be repaired and updated to your century's technology. However you manage that is your concern."

Acondo looked around the lab with bewilderment. How did he expect her to do something like this? She wasn't a scientist or an engineer. She never even finished school. She had no idea how she would fix all of this. It would take years to accumulate all the needed machinery and to adapt it all to the Count's bizarre specifications. She had doubts she even could achieve it. "I'll have to ask Richard Van Buren," she said, "He should be able to get all the things you want together."

"Very good."

Acondo looked out the window to a giant stone clock. Why would a person as old as Dracula even need it? Keeping track of time was the least of his needs. Still, she found its irony chilling. She remembered her grandmother telling her how not too long ago, when there was a death in a house all the clocks were stopped at the time of the death. The clock's hands were frozen on a midnight from a bygone age. She wondered if the clock could be repaired, but the gears were probably rusted and corroded. Something else caught her eye. She stepped onto a stone platform leading to another window. In front of it was a broken fainting couch. It was made from petrified spinal columns and other bones. It didn't match the lab at all and it seemed incredibly random. She wondered what the tower room was used for before 1888. "Why's this here?" Acondo asked.

"Oh, that thing?" Dracula said with disdain, "It's unimportant. It needs to be disposed of."

Acondo shrugged and noted his reply. She followed him to the centre of the room. He scribbled something into a small black journal. She remembered back to when she had attempted to teach him how to use a ball point pen. She was glad he finally figured it out. He pointed to the skylight above, "Follow me up there." Acondo found the ladder going up the wall to the walkways and the skylight. Though she wasn't heavy she was afraid the decaying metal and wood might not hold her. She climbed up carefully and made it to the top unharmed. All the equipment up there was damaged worse than the ones inside with all the rust, burns, and other problems. These needed to be fully replaced as well, but it added to their ominous appearance. Acondo could only imagine how they looked when operational. The pod in the middle of it all was perhaps the most disturbing. It looked like a giant metal cot suspended on a metal frame and pivot. She twitched thinking about a living person being bound to it and tortured by painful bombardments of lightning strikes. It was all brutal, even for science. If the storms wouldn't kill the victim, the cold certainly would. It was always freezing out. Acondo pulled her coat tighter around her and looked over the half walls in the tower. She was taken by the view but it also dizzied her. The precipice was a long drop from where she was standing. She couldn't even see the bottom through the mist below. The castle was surrounded by nothingness save for the distant sharp rocks of mountains. The sky was grey and eternally choked by gloom. It was the only place she had ever been where it could be so cold, but could have snow and terrible thunderstorms all in the same day. Was this place even real? Was she even in Romania or on the Earth at all? Where exactly was she? Again the surreal feeling crept up to haunt her. It felt like a dream; until the Count snapped his journal closed with one hand right next to her ear. Acondo jumped and looked up at him. His face was stern.

"I like being listened to when I'm speaking." He said, irritated.

The black tower was away from the castle and the only way to reach it was by a stone suspension bridge that was badly destroyed by the immense bolts of lightning. In its centre there was a huge gap of the bridge missing except for the stone railings that were still intact. "This will be quite easy to restore," Dracula said, "Though we might lose a handful of the Dwergi."

"But…The bridge had no support structure…How will that work…?" Acondo asked, confused.

"It will be an easy repair," he repeated. He then stepped onto the bridge's right rail. He walked across the gap to the other side with the perfection of inhuman balance. Acondo stood at the edge. She knew very well she couldn't get across it. She felt annoyed and helpless because of it. This was his kingdom. She was merely a mortal and he was much more. She pondered how she was to get across and found no answer. Dracula walked on without noticing she hadn't followed. He was almost to the tower's entrance when he found she wasn't there with him. He was already annoyed with her and, now, even more so because he had to backtrack. He found her sitting at the edge staring down into the mist.

"What exactly is the problem now?" Dracula asked impatiently. He began to think he was wrong in believing she would be useful and not a thorn in his side.

"Well, how do you suppose I get across?" Acondo replied, "I'm not like you. I can't just go on that easily."

Dracula took a deep breath and tried to quell his growing anger. Humans were weak and incapable compared to him. It had been a long time since he had to put up with a mortal and, at that time, the castle had been intact and so many of these hazards hadn't existed for them. The only threat to their lives had been him. He also had to consider – though she was strong – she was female. Women never lived long in his presence. He also had never had to cooperate with one so strong willed in this manner. Before Acondo could blink Dracula jumped across the gap to the other side. He picked her up roughly and slung her over his shoulder. Calmly, he stepped up onto the railing again and walked across. On the other side he gently put her down and they continued on. Acondo liked the fact the tower was far enough to be away from any escapades of Dracula and the brides, but close enough to be to the main building in no time at all. The tower's hall had thick stone walls. Acondo asked if it were possible to carve into them to make new rooms. Dracula replied it was. Acondo would need a room for her altar and more importantly a bathroom. If those went well she could add a storage room for food. They walked into the tower room and Acondo knew it was excellent.

"Yes, this would be perfect." Acondo thought out loud.

"Perfect?" Dracula echoed, "Perfect for what?"

"My room; it's the ideal size for what I need – my bedroom, a study, a place to work in solitude. All it needs is to be fixed up…and a fireplace." She brought his attention to the damage to the ceiling and the shattered window then looked to him for a reply. He didn't seem to have objections. Though she could never tell what ran through his constantly working mind. He nodded.

"I don't see why not. I no longer have use for the place."

:...:

They walked down the hall where Acondo's temporary room lay. She had been unaware of the purpose of the other rooms in the hall and grew curious when Dracula mentioned he had a study. It wasn't the fact he had such a room; surely he had many things within the castle to occupy his multitude of free time. She had no trouble admitting his brilliance, given his mind never rested and would grow bored very quickly without more than one hobby. At the end of the narrow hall was a fabulously ornate door. Acondo wondered how she had never noticed it before. It was carved stone in the typical medieval style, but instead of the normal images of scenes from the Bible, it portrayed demons, skeletons, bats, and vampires. Dracula told her this room is where he spent most of his nights and this was most likely where he would be found if needed. He stuck his thumb nail into the door's lock. He dreaded to see what became of the place, but his worries were unfounded. The library had no damage. Everything was as it was 123 years ago. He entered first and willed the fireplace, the lamps upon the walls, and the small chandelier to light. It illuminated the room very dimly. After Acondo's eyes adjusted she was astounded. There was a platform above her that housed countless books in shelves carved from the stone wall. She found the entire library impressive. It was a huge octagon with a seated Gothic window across from the door. It had a big fireplace flanked by two cabinets filled with mementos collected from across time. Acondo noticed that unlike most of the castle there were things hanging on the walls like swords, shields, a coat of arms with an insignia of a dragon, and more delicate things like portraits and sketches. Above the fireplace was a very large painting of the brides in a later Baroque style. There was something about it she found strange. She looked over its details and found it looked like there was someone at one point standing behind Verona and Aleera that had been painted over. Marishka was added in their place but Acondo noticed the paint was slightly different shade and the style was a tad different. She studied other things. The furniture was old, but still in incredible condition. A large desk was near the window and was beautifully carved from dark wood. A small clock was held by a statue attached to the desk and ticked weakly. A table and chairs sat in front of a slightly smaller bookshelf with a few books that had been left unread. Dracula positioned a wing-back chair in front of the fireplace and did the same with its two end tables.

"Dude," Acondo said, "How many books do you have?"

"I'm not sure anymore. I've been collecting them since 1466." Dracula said, going up the spiral stairs leading to the second level.

"Have you possibly read all of these?" Acondo asked, following him.

"At least once or more if I like it, except for the ones on the lower level shelf; it doesn't take me long to finish them. I make sure I have enough waiting afterwards so I can avoid staring listlessly at the fire. It drives me near madness."

Though carved from the wall the bookcases had glass doors and drawers underneath. Acondo opened one of the drawers and carefully looked through the fragile papers. The drawers held parchments and manuscripts Dracula had kept, stretching as far back to when he had been alive. It seemed he never threw anything away. There were alchemy notes and mad scribbles of ideas only the Count could possibly understand. She found his old language fascinating especially written in his formal aristocratic scrawl. She found something that was even more interesting. It was an old letter from Verona written in Italian. With the woman's personality it didn't entirely shock Acondo when she found she was a Medici, even though she followed a strange path. She put the papers back and studied the books on the shelf above her. They were all in brilliant condition given their age and it seemed he took good care of them. They were all catalogued by date and two bookcases each held a century's worth of literature. He would read anything. Acondo traced her finger on the spine of a book written by Castiglione. She then found the infamous writing of Machiavelli. All of the books excited her and she wandered to the cases containing the work of the 19th century. She found familiar titles that she had enjoyed at some point except the work from the later part of the era after 1888. Acondo pulled out a curious book that was a guide for hunting vampires from an English publisher she had never heard of.

"Ah, yes, I remember that," Dracula said, looking over her shoulder to the book's cover, "Quite boring to be honest. The information is inaccurate and it was almost laughable – much like most of what the English call 'history'." Acondo shrugged and put the book back and closing the case's door. He paused for a moment and then asked about the book that carried his name she mentioned before.

"It's a horror novel filled with sociological symbolism," Acondo told him, "It was written by an Irishman named Bram Stoker."

Dracula tapped his fingers on the corner of the bookcase, "I'm sure there's some truth to it. Probably the same fool who vowed revenge on me in 1871 when I was visiting London. His lady was a victim of mine. Basically it's a fantasy to fulfil his failure in killing me."

"Well, in his book you did die of a knife to the heart delivered by an American."

Dracula let out a loud laugh, "He tried that on me in London too. Too bad such a wound wouldn't do any harm. That's why I didn't kill him. His lady friend was less fortunate."

Acondo didn't say anything else. She knew he had travelled from time to time and left a trail of blood in his wake. He was death and darkness personified, and he enjoyed it. He showed no regrets. The pain and fear he inflicted gave him power. Everything he did ran through his mind before he acted. His premeditation was complex, but his motives were simple – for the sake of evil. It made her feel ill just thinking about it. She pushed it out of her mind before it made her angry and looked back to the large painting of the brides. Its mystery deepened the more she observed it. It was beautifully done. Every detail was perfect and careful. "Who painted that?" She asked.

Dracula turned to it and a tiny hint of what a person unfamiliar with him would call pride flashed in his eyes, "I did some time ago. Why?"

Acondo pointed out the difference in paint used for Marishka, "That means something was painted over and I'm trying to figure out what."

Dracula didn't give her a definite answer. He walked away and muttered, "Very good eye." He walked down the stairs to his chair and sat down. He closed his eyes and relaxed into his surroundings. He has always favoured this room for its quietness. He could be alone here when he needed to be. He was docile for a while – when it suddenly hit him. His eyes snapped open and every sense became aware. He hated when it came upon him so suddenly. Usually, he enjoyed feeling the thirst's pain, but only when it slowly grew like it normally would. When it grew all at once the pain was maddening. His mouth went dry and the gums holding his eye teeth tightened causing a pulsating feeling. Most times he enjoyed the building need as it would start as a minor annoyance then would grow over time to a point where he was nearly unable to control it, but never stepped beyond the line where he couldn't. It made the hunt and kill more satisfying. When it sprung on him he had no control at all. He could just wait, biding his time for the chance to placate its frenzy. He would kill and not be able to enjoy it. It didn't give him the feeling of his victim's pain, fear, or their fade into death. It frustrated him and he became annoyed by Acondo's presence. Everything about her started to irritate him. Her scent and heartbeat emanated life and caused the thirst to hurt more. Her footsteps sounded like stomps from an elephant. He got up and moved to grab her. She was flipping through an old German history book and wasn't paying attention to anything. He grasped her shoulder tightly and spun her around.

"Get out," He growled, "Go do something better with yourself."

Acondo stared at him with confusion, "…What would you like me to do?"

"Go interact with the other women."

"Are you serious?" Acondo objected, "What exactly am I supposed to do with them? I don't like talking to them or 'other women' in general."

He grasped her shoulder harder and let out a low animal like growl, "There is no argument to be made. You _will_do it."

Acondo was a bit shaken by the insanity in his pale eyes. She let out a disgusted sigh and took her leave. She walked awkwardly into the brides' sitting room that was across the castle. She moved to a chair far away from them and sat down in silence. They hardly noticed her, which was good. She wasn't sure how they felt about her being there or her intrusion into their space. She hoped they remained quiet about it and didn't decide to approach her with malice. Though she could beat them in wit, she knew she couldn't beat them in strength. She wouldn't stand a chance in a fight against three supernatural monsters if they attacked. Thankfully they didn't and Acondo rested quietly watching the bats crawl around on the ceiling. Their squeaks were soothing. She felt like she was about to doze off. Her instincts awoke her to Marishka approaching her. She knelt down next to her hand didn't say anything.

Acondo wasn't sure what to do, "…Do you need something?"

"You're strange." Was the bride's reply.

"How so?"

"Your ways are different. You're always alone."

Acondo was touched by her gentile demeanour. She acted seemingly innocent and inexperienced compared to the others, but she could be just as vicious. She looked so young; much younger than Acondo if she were living. She looked like she was barely out of her teens when she was turned. She also didn't have any air of nobility like her two counterparts. From her face, skin, and hair Acondo guessed she was a gypsy. Her long brown hair hung in waves down her back and her eyes were a light brown colour that resembled gold in the dim light. She was such a pretty girl and Acondo felt it was a shame what had become of her. She felt pity for them all. They were so loyal and loving to a master who was incapable of returning it, and undeserving of it, for that matter. Acondo had never experienced such an emotion as blindly passionate as love. It made her almost happy. She was alone, but she never had to suffer the kind of pain the fleeting emotion produced in its name.

"Why don't you sit with us?" Marishka asked.

"I don't really think-" Acondo started to reply before she was practically dragged by the arm across the room to the parlour set the women were sitting on. She sat in an overly stuffed chair. She blinked confused about what she was to say. Realistically, they had nothing in common to talk about. She had no idea what women from their respective times did, nor did they know what women from the 21st century did. It was quiet for a while as they stared just as confused. Verona, who was sitting nearest to her, was the first to speak.

"So, what is it that you women _do_?" She asked.

Acondo could have gone into a long lecture about it, but she didn't consider herself an extreme feminist and they wouldn't understand to begin with. She settled with, "Whatever we want. We don't have to marry if we don't want to. I know very well I can take care of myself." The concept surprised them. They were fascinated when Acondo explained the equality in most things. They discussed it for a long time.

"What about that voting concept?" Verona asked, "That was a large issue before. What became of that?"

"I can vote." Acondo said, "I don't, but I can if I want to."

"Why don't you? You have the right why don't you use it?"

"Because politics is a corrupt business and everyone involved is a liar. The only thing you're voting for is whose lies you like the most." Acondo replied before asking, "So, tell me, what you did in your times?"

Verona explained her duties from her culture. Acondo found a lot of it tedious, but a few were interesting like most traditions of the nobility in which Verona and Aleera were born. Marishka was a different story. She only knew simple domestic tasks. She wasn't tutored in any elegant arts; she couldn't even read or write. Even as different as they were they managed to develop a close bond with one another Acondo found cold and depressive. They merely had a tolerable friendship. Even then, behind the decades of growing used to one another there was always a struggle for Dracula's attention and favour – a constant parry for rank. It was a savage game.

At midnight Acondo was finally taken away by the Count. In the hall were the creatures she was to oversee. The Dwergi were disgusting looking. They stood in a group, silent as though they were toys waiting to be wound. Acondo was incapable of hiding her shock, "…What the hell are these things?"

"I'm not sure," Dracula said, "I never learned their origins. I assume they were failed experiments."

"What experiment would cause _this_?"

"You would be surprised what madmen with knowledge of science do without reason."

They watched Dracula intently. They knew he was Master, but did not know Acondo. He spoke to them in a harshly bizarre language. Acondo didn't understand a word of it. How was she supposed to be the boss with a language barrier? The Dwergi screeched in understanding. Their voices were shrill and violent. When it was established Dracula gave Acondo an empty smile and gave her command.

"One question," Acondo said, "How am I going to communicate with them? I can't speak…Whatever the hell they do."

"Try your best." Dracula said before leaving to attend to his needs.

Acondo stood there as the Dwergi stared at her. She didn't have the slightest idea how to tell them what to do.

"Sprichst du Deutsch?" She asked them.

They gave no reply.

"Vorbiţi romăneşte?"

They still didn't answer.

Acondo took a bit a leap and gave one last attempt, "Parli italiano?"

The Dwergi stood in silence. Acondo sighed. This was going to be harder than she expected. She started making gestures trying to desperately get the point across. She only wanted the hall cleaned. When she stopped one of the larger Dwergi stepped forward. It repeated her gestures screeching in its own tongue. Acondo nodded and mimicked the words the best she could. The Dwerger nodded and screeched her directions to the others. They grunted and scattered setting to work. Acondo wandered around watching them. They seemed to know what they were doing. She thought about how she could learn their language. She could learn with sign language, but it would take too much time. She could always ask the Count when he was fatigued by hunger. As the Dwergi worked they were quiet. They worked quickly and had the hall cleaned before dawn when the Count returned and looked it over closely.

"Are you handling them well?" He asked Acondo.

"They don't really need much instruction, do they?" Acondo replied.

"For menial tasks, no, but for more difficult things they need much of it," Dracula said, "You still need to learn how to communicate with them." He dismissed them until next evening. Acondo felt exhausted. Her head was spinning as she returned to her bedroom. She was satisfied with everything she had accomplished in one night. It would take time to get used to it, but she could do it. Acondo fed Zeret and stayed up to watch the sun rise, then cleaned herself up and put on her sleeping clothes. She checked her bed for any insects or spiders, and then laid down. She turned and had no troubles falling into a deep sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

Dracula awoke in the evening to a strange and distant sound. It sounded like music, though different from what he would call such. He knew it was coming from the castle, but where was the question. It confused him for a moment until he remembered her. The place had no electricity, yet somehow she managed to make an old device that had a similar look to a phonograph – turntable, as she called it – play without plugging it in. He made his way down the hall, which had been cleaned up a month before, to the bridge leading to the black tower, which had been fully repaired a week ago. The music became clearer and loud as he approached. He didn't understand why she needed to play it so loudly. Then again, he heard better than she could. Even the slightest whisper was as clear to him as if someone had shouted it. The deep baritone voice sang a broody and enigmatic song.

_Behind the door, the poison door…_

The tower hall had chalk marks where she wanted the additional rooms with their blueprints pasted on the wall for the group of Dwergi assigned to the task. The others were in the main room with her – Acondo. Her name was Acondo. There was something about her that made him forget about her at times. A couple of times he was even surprised by her existence. He had trouble with her. Not only was she different from his view of women, her mind was impossible to enter. He had never experienced such a phenomenon in all the centuries he had existed. Even the most powerful and brilliant had fallen to him. Then there was her. She was intelligent; more so than any common street rat he had ever known. She also had the potential to be powerful. It was perhaps in her blood and the reason such an unlikely child was the key to his resurrection. She had a connection to him, but how? He had so many questions. Like her werewolf, who was lying in the centre of the floor. No mortal had ever tamed a werewolf. It seemed impossible that she at so young an age could out will a much more powerful creature and win. It even took him years to do so. Her ability to control the beast was astounding.

"I really wish you would at least announce yourself," Acondo said as she was changing her record.

"I shall try to remember to do so," Dracula replied.

"Van Buren will be dropping by eventually," Acondo said, "He's going to help me out in the lab and the physics issue for my bathroom. I'm also expecting a package tomorrow." Dracula nodded, but Acondo noticed something. Something he wanted to say though he remained silent. She knew she would be better off not knowing, but she couldn't help her curiosity. "If you have something to say, say it," she said. Acondo braced herself. This could go many ways and none of them could potentially work in her favour.

"The subject on how you resurrected me has been brought up again," Dracula replied, "I still haven't found an answer or how you are in any way connected to me."

"That makes two of us," Acondo said, "I know my family history spanning to the 16th century and there has never been a mention of you."

"Yes. In any country I don't think anyone would be capable of forgetting coming in contact with me," Dracula agreed. Acondo ran over her family tree to him starting at 1590 and couldn't find anything out of place. What got into her blood?

Two hours later Acondo left and returned with Doctor Van Buren. Van Buren looked much different since he had stopped injecting himself with vampire blood. His face was fuller, though it was becoming worn looking. He had gained weight and was no longer gaunt. He was healthy again, but the years of abuse had had some side effects. Certain senses had developed the vampiric trait though he was still very much mortal. He didn't have any trouble seeing in the dark light of the oil lamps in the lab like Acondo did. The machines excited him. He pulled off the door of the generator exposing the damaged gears inside. "Oh, yes!" he exclaimed. Acondo watched him eagerly dig into the contraption. He shouted the problems he was finding and she wrote them down. Van Buren was much more eager to tear the entire lab apart than was necessary. When the Count came to see the doctor he found Van Buren sitting on the floor playing with the generator's parts like a puzzle. "Hello!" Van Buren said jumping to his feet. His white lab coat was soiled by the oily dirt on the floor, "This is the first thing that needs to be fixed. This controls the power to all the equipment. Honestly, I wouldn't recommend entirely replacing anything, but modernising the components. The repairs will be expensive, but as much as it would be if new equipment was made to your specifications."

"How expensive?" Dracula asked.

"Well, I can't give you a rough estimate yet," Van Buren explained, "I still need to look over everything else. Most of the components I can assure you are shot to hell. I have a team that could fix everything, but I'd need it to be cleared by Captain Brandt."

Dracula smiled, "I'm sure the Captain and I could come to an agreement."

Van Buren nodded stiffly. He knew what that meant. The entire Nightguard knew what their meetings were comprised of. It was amazing they got anything pertaining to business done. It seemed difficult to debate pros and cons and views on subjects while lying on your back. It took a lot of talent on Anneke Brandt's part that she could. Van Buren worried what would become of their relationship if a scandal got out and he worried about the Captain's health. "She would be more inclined to hear the idea from you than she would from me," He said then returning to the generator.

"Would you be offended, Doctor, if we left you for an hour?" Dracula asked. Acondo looked at him suspiciously.

"Not at all," Van Buren's voice echoed from the generator.

Acondo raised an eyebrow, "What's going on?"

"The Elders wish to meet with me," Dracula said.

"So, why do I have to be a part of it?"

"Because the meeting is about you."

Acondo groaned and reluctantly followed him to the library. They waited for half an hour before the Elders showed. They were all healed and wearing new crushed velvet cloaks. Apostol no longer limped; Dragomir's face was clear and unscarred, Tobar's black burns had disappeared, Besnik could speak again, and the lady Angelica was no longer blind and her eyes were now a soft shade of violet. They greeted Dracula in their intimate vampire manner and bowed to Acondo. They were beckoned to the table. Dracula sat at the head of it with Acondo and Apostol on both sides. "My Lord," Apostol began, "Questions have come from the common race about the rite and, of course, the girl."

"They're wondering when her blood will flow, aren't they?" Dracula said.

"Yes, sir, and some are impatient for it."

"That sounds like no concern of mine. It will occur when I see fit."

"I wouldn't recommend waiting too long," Apostol said, "They might lose hope and forget about you."

"Then remind them when they do," Dracula snapped, "Make them aware of me. That I am Master and Master still."

"They need to see you strong to keep their loyalty."

"I don't see why, but if they wish it I will make it be. October is not too many months away. Are people still interested in such things like masquerades?"

"Yes, there's a lot of nostalgia for those," Acondo said, "But kidnapping your date is frowned upon in this age."

"I don't yet have any enemies that require me to make spectacles of their deaths. So that is not an issue," Dracula replied.

"Perhaps you should find someone," Apostol said, "They would enjoy that."

"I won't rush it," Dracula said, "Some fool will cross my path soon enough. I think they can settle for seeing I still have the girl."

"But they won't like the fact she is still living," Besnik said.

"Perhaps not, but it's not their choice to make. We arranged a compromise last year and I am a man of my word. I'm not going to break it until the time comes. She is still very useful to me."

"Nice to know I'm appreciated," Acondo said sarcastically. Someone knocked on the study door. Acondo got up to answer it and found Van Buren needed her assistance. Acondo looked to Dracula who allowed her to leave. The Elders were silent for a moment. Apostol then brought up the Count's victims. The Elders needed to expand; they couldn't handle business with only five members for much longer. Dracula couldn't announce any victims that he had turned. When Acondo was with him she made sure they didn't have the chance and had stated she would shoot them in the heart with a silver bullet. Such action hadn't yet been needed since, from the time of his resurrection, his thirst was always dire and no one had survived his attacks. There had been a few months where he had killed more than three people just quench it. He would have to show restraint the next time to arrange new members for the Elders. More members would mean a bigger council and things would run smoother. The Elders were his advisors and the Nightguard was his army. It was almost a real kingdom by definition. He found he liked that thought. He had everything he desired.

:...:

"Lovely evening," Dracula remarked. It had rained all day and the black clouds obscured most of the sun that was left. The wind was so strong it almost knocked Acondo off of her feet. By the time they reached the post office her hair was in knots. Dracula was also affected; his long hair was knocked loose from the silver hairclip he wore. He pulled out the clip and handed it to Acondo. She watched him fix his hair to his liking. She was surprised how different he looked when it hung to his shoulders. It wasn't as long as hers but only by a few centimetres. It was also greasy with dirt. "When was the last time you washed?" Acondo asked, "Your hair especially."

"I can't remember," Dracula said, "Why?"

"It's so dirty it doesn't even look real," Acondo replied, "…It _is_ real, right?" Dracula glared at her, though it didn't bother her like it would have if they weren't in public. "You should bathe a least once a week," Acondo went on, "It'll keep the smell of rotting flesh off of you. Trust me; you'd be more pleasant to be around." She then pulled out a little red bottle from her pocket. She took off the cap and sprayed him with a strong spicy smelling perfume. She unlocked the mailbox she rented. She looked through few letters, but none of them were correspondence from James. She put them in her pocket and went in line to retrieve her package. Dracula waited beside her impatiently. People stared at them, but no one dared to get too close.

"Is there a reason for waiting so long?" He asked.

"Because there are people ahead of us," Acondo said. They stood in line for fifteen minutes. Acondo resorted to folding a letter into a paper crane to occupy the Count's time. Any longer and he would have killed the people ahead. When her turn came Acondo handed the slip to the elderly woman at the counter. She asked her name and Acondo replied with 'Flemming' and she spelled it. The woman shuffled away to the back. Acondo waited for five minutes for the woman to return. The woman came back, explaining she'd run into a problem, and Acondo immediately knew what had happened. It had happened many times to her when people misspelled her surname. She told the old woman to look for Flemming with on one M. Acondo sighed when she was asked to spell it. The woman shuffled away once again. Another five minutes passed when she came back with a heavy box. She set it on the counter and Acondo signed for it. She gave the heavy box to Dracula to carry and warned him not to drop it. They walked out with Acondo grumbling in annoyance. Dracula didn't pay attention to it for a while. He was too busy musing over the contents of her parcel. Now and again he could hear the glass containers knock against each other. "Why would you have jars sent to you?" Dracula asked.

"Jars…what?" Acondo said, "I ordered candles…" They made their way into the old west cemetery and Dracula asked why she needed candles. Acondo took the box from him and set it on a tombstone. She pulled a knife from her boot and flicked it open. She cut the box open and pulled out a large red candle. Dracula looked in the box. There were nine of them inside it. He didn't understand why she needed so many. She handed the candle to him and he smelled it. It was an overpowering scent of rose. It triggered something in his mind; a distant pleasurable memory. He had a faint flashback to a party. A beautiful young girl he danced with who reeked of rose, as it was her favourite perfume. She had constantly worn it, even when he took her life. "I just…don't fucking know…" Acondo said bringing him back to reality as she looked irritably at the package's address label, "How fucking hard is it to spell my name right? I could understand if it was 'Acondo' but 'Flemming'…? Two Ms! It's not that bloody hard!" She sat down on a stone bench and lit a cigarette. Dracula agreed with her dreamily. He wasn't paying much attention to her tiff. His mind was processing something else. Her voice was distant in his ears. Something was wrong here, but he couldn't place it until he heard her mutter something in Latin. His attention snapped to her; he knew that phrase and it genuinely shocked him to hear it again. The words were familiar to him, but he hadn't recognised it until that moment. He asked her to repeat the phrase. Acondo did, but she didn't like the expression on his face. It was though she said something that he didn't expect from her and his brain was struggling to grasp it.

"Are you okay?" Acondo asked.

"Roses…" He muttered, "Why rose?"

"I don't know…? I like them." Acondo replied, "Why? What the fuck are you getting at? What's wrong?"

Dracula stared at her. Something in his mind snapped and was unwilling to accept the memory it had resurfaced. He mumbled something in a language she didn't understand. The only thing he was capable of spatting in German was, "How…? This…cannot…"

"Vlad…" Acondo said calmly, though she was incredibly frightened, "I don't have any idea what you're talking about."

Dracula was agonisingly quiet for a moment then as quickly as his episode came, it disappeared. He smiled as calm as could be and laughed softly. He gave her the candle back while saying, "Of course…Its better that you don't…" Acondo watched him leave. She sat there frozen and confused. He would never explain it to her even if she dared to ask. She put her candle in the box and resealed it. She debated if it was wise to return to the castle for the night. Her room was still being renovated and she needed to be there so the Dwergi did things right. Then again, the way he had stared told her something certainly wasn't right, but if she didn't return it would be assumed that she hadn't out of fear and she couldn't have that. Acondo picked up the heavy box and stumbled through the cemetery. _Why roses?_ That was a good question. She had always like roses, red ones especially. She always used rose scented things to freshen rooms. It was the only smell that seemed to compliment the mausoleum when she'd lived there and covered the smell of mould and death. It was worrisome it gave Dracula such a bizarre reaction and when Acondo returned to the castle, it was dead. There was no sign of anybody. Not the Dwergi, the brides, or Dracula. Her footsteps echoed through the empty halls. She put the candles in her room and fed Zeret. She then walked to the black tower and looked around for things she could do on her own. Almost everything complex was done. The bathroom was the last big thing that needed to be finished. She knew how to work on pipes and plumbing from the countless woes the bathroom in her old apartment had given her. The difficult parts were done, so the job was fairly easy. She did a good job in her opinion. The next evening she would get a connection to water. Then the new furniture would be moved in and she could finally get out of that tiny closet.

She didn't like walking back through the hall back to her room. The deathly silence reminded her of the haunted house James had worked in. Its grand hall was quiet and when you least expected it someone would appear out of nowhere and scare the piss out of you. She stayed alert, but still jumped when she ran into Verona. She instinctively pulled out her gun. "Oh, shit!" Acondo said stopping herself from shooting her, "I'm sorry…"

"It's all right," Verona replied.

"So, Vlad had an outburst today…" Acondo said unlocking her bedroom door. She wasn't sure why she was telling Verona this. The brides and Dracula had a telekinetic connection. Everything he felt they felt, and vice versa.

"I know. I don't like feeling his stress," Verona said, "It tortures me. I hoped my presence could alleviate it."

Acondo held up her hand to silence her. She made a face as though she had swallowed a bug, "Don't go any further. I don't want to know how you alleviate anything."

"But if I may ask. What caused it?"

Acondo pulled out one of her candles, "The scent of my candles set him off, I guess. Do you have any idea why?"

"I never know what triggers him when it comes to small things," Verona explained, "If he wishes to tell me he will. If he doesn't so be it and I'll never know."

"And you think nothing of it."

"It's not my place to."

"Well, I guess I can commend you for your devotion. I don't think anyone today would be capable of tolerating a narcissistic sociopath," Acondo said.

"He's not as bad as you see him to be. He can be quite likeable," Verona said, and then suddenly looked in the direction of the study. Her master was calling her and he was growing impatient. She wished Acondo a good night and hastily made her way down the hall to the carved library door. She knocked softly and waited. When she was given the psychic signal of permission she entered. She closed the door and approached the Count carefully. She stood beside his chair saying nothing. He would acknowledge her when he was ready. Dracula was staring listlessly into the fireplace with his head resting on his left hand. In his right was a goblet made from ancient crystal half empty of dark scarlet blood hanging languidly in his in his fingers. He was lost deep within the recesses of his thoughts, calculating and trying to make sense of it all. Verona loved watching him. For her it reminded her of a happier past. He seemed almost alive. It made her happy, but it also caused her pain. The man she knew was long dead. He was only the ghostly shards of his un-beating heart. She had to watch and be cursed with forgotten days she could only relive in her dreams. There was no more passion in him. No more love, but she was still loyal. She was his and she would love him. Even though that love could never be returned like it once could have been. She would remain even when her broken heart couldn't bare the sadness. It seemed she waited an eternity for him to acknowledge her. Her servitude was rewarded when he finally did. She smiled pleasantly forgetting her sorrows and bowed in greeting. She sat on the arm of his chair. She took him in her arms. Dracula didn't object; he was amazed at times how good she was to him. He knew this woman well, and in the past she could have been just as strong willed as he. He gave her that allowance after centuries of unwavering faithfulness. She was always patient and accepting to what he did, even when she didn't approve. She was warm to the others – though she was not particularly happy when he took Aleera. He did value her opinion, because if she didn't voice it she would make it known some other way. She never challenged him, but still dared more than the other two would. He supposed she deserved it for staying with him the longest.

"What do you think?" Dracula finally said, "Of this situation?"

"You mean with the girl? Well, I don't pay much attention to her so I can't say I mind her," Verona replied, "She doesn't speak to me often and goes on her way without bothering me. I don't see any harm. She's certainly no threat to us. Is she the cause for this tension? What did she do?"

"Her bloodline," Dracula said, "I didn't realise how she became marked…And then I remembered…" He went silent. It enraged him to think about it. Damn that girl! Damn her for resurfacing what he'd rather forget! Dracula stared at her waiting for it to dawn on her. She made the connection and her eyes widened. "It's the only thing that makes sense." Dracula went on. He offered her his glass and decided to let the subject rest. She smiled and took it. They became quiet again as always in times such as these. It was deafening and calming at the same time, with only the embers of the fire and the wind against the window speaking. Verona held him closer to her with a new worry. He sensed it and knew what was troubling her. She wanted him to promise her he'd be careful and not act impulsively. He brushed his hand against her cheek and willed her mind to ease. He pulled her to his lap gently. For now he decided to enjoy his time with his lady. He liked feeling her soft lips against his – then again, he liked the company of pretty women to begin with, but he favoured Verona most of all. She had centuries of experience and knew what he found pleasurable. She knew what she could do for him and she took over. They spent the rest of the night alone in each other's embrace…on various surfaces in the study.


End file.
